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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25412515">AMA</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bandwidthlimit/pseuds/bandwidthlimit'>bandwidthlimit</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Leverage Ficlets [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Leverage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:07:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25412515</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bandwidthlimit/pseuds/bandwidthlimit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Their cover blown, one team member makes a snap decision and lands themselves in the hospital. Shockingly, no one knows how to cope. Graphic depictions of violence are not terribly graphic, but it should probably be tagged anyway.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sophie Devereaux/Nathan Ford</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Leverage Ficlets [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840567</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>AMA</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This work is one of many that I wrote in 2011 or 2012, which I am starting to move over from Livejournal for better archiving. This was originally split into three very small parts, which is why it is split up a little bit.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They'd been in Detroit for a little over a week, trying to secure a life insurance policy that had been stolen from their client's late mother. The Davis family had been running a scheme similar to Nate's proposed 'Glengarry Glen Death' plan so long ago. Parker had been halfway through clearing out the family safe when Hardison's voice came clear and worried over the comms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, whoa, whoa, guys. Get out of there, I've got alarms blowing up all over the place, and Daddy Davis is making a call and I can't intercept it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Blown here,” Eliot's voice was pure gravel, and a second later, they heard flesh hit flesh. Sophie managed not to flinch, if barely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then all of a sudden, the plan went South on their end, too, and Jon Davis, the older of the two brothers in front of them, snapped his phone shut and nodded gravely at his brother with a sense of finality that gave Sophie chills. When the gun rose, Nate started talking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, now. We're all adults here, we can settle this without waving guns in each others faces, can't we?” Nate had his hands up in front of him, gesturing at the handgun that was, at best, two feet from his nose. His voice had that obnoxious Los Angeles edge, the one that made Sophie grind her teeth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It didn't seem to be having any better effect on the Davis brothers, who exchanged a look. Everything felt like it was in slow motion as the older Davis gave an almost imperceptible nod and the younger pulled the trigger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sophie was pretty sure she'd never moved so fast in her life, shoving Nate down out of the way. She'd been most of the way down herself when the bullet hit her side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Between hitting the ground and Nate's hands pressing roughly against her side, Sophie lost track of time. Pain flared and she groaned, weakly trying to push him away. His voice sounded just as rough as his hands felt, but a million times more scared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Sophie, no, keep your eyes open. Look at me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn't want to, but there was something in his voice that made her crack her eyes open, even though it hurt, and she found herself bringing her own hand up to touch the wayward curls of his hair. “You know,” as much as it hurt to talk, Sophie couldn't stop herself from speaking, “Death scenes... aren't as fun when they're real.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nate looked like he was torn between laughing and crying. The expression looked like it hurt. “Sophie, you're not dying, okay? You're not going to die today, because Sophie Devereaux is not going to die in a moldy warehouse surrounded by rats.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She screwed up her face, and pretended like it didn't hurt to breathe. “You didn't tell me... that there were rats... in here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How close had that bullet come to her lung? She swallowed, and tried to ignore the extra fluid. If Nate said she wasn't going to die, she was going to do her level best to believe him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gave in and laughed, but it sounded wet, like her breathing. “You wouldn't have agreed to be here if you'd known.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn't have... been here, anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nate fell silent, his face stony, and Sophie wondered foggily if it was because of what she said or if he'd noticed the change in her breaths. She decided she didn't want to know, and watched Eliot loom up behind Nate. “I took care of it,” he ground out, and Sophie missed whatever it was that Nate said in response, because the world went first gray around the edges, and then black all over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Can you do it?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No. She's bleeding into her chest cavity. We need to get her to a hospital.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The sirens were loud, screaming in her ears, and she tried to turn away from it only to be held short by hands and pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sir, what's the patient's name?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sophie.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Eliot glared at him, elbowing him hard in the side. “Nate.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He blinked, and shook his head forcefully, trying to reclaim control on the situation. “Sophie Baker. I'm her husband, Nate. This is Charlie, my brother.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Charlie? Seriously?” Hardison huffed over the comms, and a moment later said, “Okay, I've updated your profiles for the Bakers, so you should be good. It's gonna take me a little more time to get Charlie up and running.” He paused, and then asked, voice carefully modulated to hide any concern. If circumstances were different, Nate might have found it amusing. “How's our girl?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nate swallowed over the thick lump in his throat, turning away from the nurse. “She's fighting.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Light burned against her eyelids, pain burned in her side, and voices murmured around her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She's got a hemopneumo... I need a decompression over here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Items clattered, and the light burned out above her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The antiseptic smell was setting him on edge. They weren't letting him in to see Sophie – the curtains were drawn, and occasionally they would rustle when someone, sometimes a nurse, sometimes a doctor, stepped out into the hall.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nate knew something was wrong as soon as the attending physician stepped out and wouldn't look at him. He knew that look. He had the hunched shoulders of a man who had done everything in his power and had failed. Nate knew the look because he had worn it many times himself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He stood, shrugging off Eliot's hand, ignoring Parker's noise of concern. He pulled out his earbud on the way down the hall. He could hear Eliot behind him, and ignored it, brushing past the doctor and heading for an exit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn't be here. He couldn't hear it, he couldn't...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn't.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Baker!” Eliot caught the doctor by the arm as he tried to follow Nate out the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doc, I'm Sophie's brother-in-law. Nate... he needs a minute. What's happening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor rubbed a hand over his face. It had been a long, busy day. He'd had three codes in his trauma bays today, and he hadn't been ready for another one. His crew was tired, beat down, and there wasn't enough coffee in the world to make the night shift pass any faster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was in rough shape when she got here. She had a hemopneumothorax to her right lung... I'm sorry, that means she had an air leak into her chest cavity, and that she was bleeding into the same area. We decompressed the area, and got her stabilized.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was the part he hated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We, uh... we lost her-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eliot curled his hands into fists at his sides, tensing all over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-for awhile, but she's stable, for now. We'll be transferring her up to CCU in a few minutes. One of the nurses will escort you and your family upstairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parker touched his shoulder, once the doctor had retreated to the nurses station. “Is she okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eliot took a deep breath, and said roughly, “She's holding on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where's Nate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'd tried this before, and he knew it didn't work. Wasn't the definition of insanity trying the same thing over and over expecting a different result? Nate smiled grimly and tried to lose himself in the burn of whiskey down the back of his throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nate.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliot's voice was tinny and thin from the ear piece, far away from his ear in his coat pocket. Nate wasn't sure if he was actually hearing it or imagining it, and frankly, he didn't much care.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nate!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He signaled the bartender for another shot, and on second thought, told him to just leave the bottle on the bar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nate, goddammit.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” he told his pocket, pouring another liberal glass. He didn't want to talk to Eliot, he didn't want to hear the confirmation of bad news that he'd seen in the doctor's body language. He didn't even want to think about body language, because body language made him think of Sophie. It always had.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was her body language that had drawn him to her in the first place, not that she was a thief. She just knew how to draw a man across the room with that little tilt of her head and a smile that flirted with the corners of her lips. Nate tried not to think about never seeing that again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His phone was ringing, vibrating angrily against his side. It broke through the cloud of abject despair that had settled over him, and he nearly knocked the bottle over pulling his phone out of his pocket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“H'llo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get your drunk ass back to the hospital. Now.” Eliot's voice growled through the speaker, and Nate scowled, toying with the desire to be petulant. “I know you hate hospitals,” even drunk, he could detect the softening in Eliot's voice, as subtle as it was, “but you need to be here when Sophie wakes up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His brow furrowed, and Nate would be damned if he let that little sliver of hope kick him in the gut. Sophie was gone. He'd seen it, in the slump of the doctors shoulders, in the way he walked. He'd seen it before, when they tried to explain to him why they couldn't save his son. He knew that look, he knew what it meant. Eliot was not going to convince him otherwise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You're a damn fool, Nate. Get here before I come get you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Convinced or not, that was a threat Nate took seriously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He left his earbud out on the way back to the hospital. He told himself it was because he was drunk enough that he didn't need to be talking to himself on the walk back. Passerby were giving him a wide enough berth as it was, and he knew it was because of his body language, telling them he was dangerous and broken.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back to body language again. Back to Sophie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He squashed the hopeful little voice that said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe she's okay, Eliot said 'when she wakes up,' maybe, maybe, maybe...</span>
  </em>
  <span>, except that he'd </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. Maybe he'd never be as good at reading body language as Sophie was, but he knew the signs. He knew what to look for here, where none of the rest of them did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was unprepared for the full body assault of Parker when he entered the room. He stiffened instinctively, until he realized that her arms were around him in a hug, not in attempted violence. Nate raised his eyebrows at Eliot over her shoulder, and got a shrug in return. Awkwardly patting Parker's back, he pretended like he couldn't feel the two damp patches on his neck. “She's gonna be okay,” Parker whispered, and Nate felt his heart stop, and slam back into action in earnest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nate felt his eyes well up and blinked it away, looking past Parker, and Eliot and Hardison to the hospital bed. Sophie was asleep, probably drug induced, judging by the IV bags hanging around the bed, but she was alive. She was gray under her natural tan, and there were dark circles under her eyes, but she was breathing on her own and the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When -” he cleared his throat, trying to regain control over his voice, “When is she supposed to wake up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A few hours,” Hardison spoke up, pulling his eyes away from Sophie's hand, which he held in his own. “They came in a bit ago to pull out the tube...” he paled even thinking about it, and Nate sympathized. He knew he wouldn't be the only one with a hospital complex at the end of this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They filtered out, eventually. Nate let a nurse give him an IV and hook him up to fluids. He took Hardison's chair by Sophie's bed, and stared at her, counting her breaths. He had been so sure he'd never see her again, but he should have known she would hold on. Sophie Devereaux never made her exit until she was damn well ready to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew that better than most.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He must have fallen asleep in the stiff backed chair, because the next thing he knew, fingers were squeezing his and Sophie's voice said, “Nate,” soft and hoarse but it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sophie</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His cheeks were wet and his voice cracked when he said, “Sophie,” but his smile was wide enough it hurt his face. Words closed up in his throat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We were so worried, please don't do this to me again, I love you...</span>
  </em>
  <span> What he said instead was, “Let me go get the doctor.” Her fingers tightened on his as he stood, and he leaned over her, pressing a kiss to her forehead and trying futilely to control his breathing. “I'm glad you're okay, Soph.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The flurry of doctors took longer than the phone calls Nate had to make. He used the time to try to compose himself. Nate wasn't exactly sure if he'd succeeded or not, but when the last doctor left the room, he found himself going back in. Sophie blinked owlishly at him, and he knew without asking that they'd pushed more drugs into her system. In the next few days, when they started tapering off, they'd smuggle her out of the hospital, against medical advice. As good as Hardison was, Nate knew it was only a matter of time before law enforcement sent someone around to investigate the hospital's report, and he didn't intend to stick around much longer than that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sophie opened her mouth to speak, and he silenced her, taking her hand. “Go to sleep, Sophie. I'll be here when you wake up." Always.</span>
</p>
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